


In The End

by august_the_real



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/august_the_real/pseuds/august_the_real
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I knew that look in his eyes was a dangerous mixture of sadness and regret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The End

\--- denotes change in narrator

There was a dull thud as the ship docked at the station. After  
thirty five years of travel, it felt like it should have been more,  
like there should have been light shows and fireworks and a million   
people cheering our name. That would come, of course, later. For now   
there was simply a dull thud and it seemed to mock us all.

But we were here, nevertheless. The Alpha Quadrant. Thirty-five  
years after we first set sail, I come back as Commander Paris, serving  
under Captain Tuvok. He had been standing with me in the turbolift at  
the time, we were both making our way down to the cargo bay where, it  
was rumoured, the President awaited our disembarkment. I looked at  
him, at that moment. We both jolted as the station clamped down on   
Voyager and my eyes met his. People say that the Vulcan race are cold   
and emotionless. In my experience, neither is true. The emotions rage   
deep within them, but the control is strong. Yet at that moment, when   
his eyes met mine, I knew that look in his eyes was a dangerous   
mixture of sadness and regret.

*They should be here.*

I couldn't help the thought. I didn't want it -- I sure as hell  
didn't need it, but it was there all the same. It felt like at that  
moment the ghosts of the dead were in that turbolift -- B'Elanna was  
banging away at some control panel, Chakotay was waiting patiently and  
Kathryn was leaning against the wall, smiling softly.

And then the moment passed.

"Tuvok." I turned to him, realising I might not get the chance once  
the reporters swarmed on us. I stopped, and readjusted myself,  
deciding to do the whole Starfleet thing. "Captain," I began again.   
"You have . . . Kathryn would have been pleased."

I waited, realising my comment bordered on both insubordination and  
condescension. But it was the right thing to say. He fixed this gaze  
on me as the turbo-lift doors slid open.

"After you, Commander." He said steadily. I nodded and slipped past  
him Yet as I did, he gripped hold of my shoulder. "You made her happy,   
in the end . . . Tom." It was the first time I had ever heard him use   
my name, and it probably tasted like Leola root in his mouth. But he   
gave me that in the end, at least.

And with that, we both turned to meet the President of the United  
Federation of Planets.

\---

I did the last rounds of the ship, that night. We had to stay  
on-board overnight, while they arranged transports and accommodation.  
And just to make sure we hadn't picked up any Delta Quadrant virus, I  
suppose. But I found that I wasn't really in a particular hurry to  
meet the Federation again. Hell, I was pushing seventy -- they had   
nothing I needed. Nothing I wanted, after going without so much.

Well maybe a real pool table.

And a real bottle of scotch.

I laughed at the thought of what the headlines would say. 'Delta  
Quadrant hero longs for bottle of scotch.' That would be something.  
Would convince the old man that he was right about me, all along.  
Although I suppose I should stop calling him the old man. I knew long  
before we arrived here that he would be dead. I just . . . it just  
felt wrong. Now I'm the old man.

Life has thrown me a few curve balls, here and there. Hell, sometimes  
it seems like the whole thing is one big curve ball, coming at me  
straight and heading off to the side. Being lost and found and lost   
again.

The Delta Quadrant.

The President had said to me as I shook his hand, "Sir, they'll be  
telling your story for years to come." Sir. Imagine that. Found it  
hard to think of myself as a Sir. I had somehow never expected life in   
the Alpha Quadrant to keep moving. For there to be different faces and  
different uniforms to greet me. I had somehow never expected to be  
this old.

These are the thoughts that run through my mind as I walk along the  
corridors. For the first time in I don't know how many years, they  
weren't bustling with activity. It taken me years to get used to the  
changes -- to not expect Chakotay to sneak up behind me and drop a  
thousand padds into my arms or for B'Elanna to growl at me as she  
walked past in one of our all-too frequent domestic spats. Walking   
along the empty corridors now, I was glad I didn't have to get used to   
this.

I stopped outside B'Elanna's quarters. Of course, they weren't her  
quarters anymore, they belonged to a Lieutenant from the group of  
Keylor that had joined us after the attack. Poor Carey had been passed   
over for promotion yet again, as Sappide took the position of chief   
engineer. He had turned out to be quite a gifted officer, tweaking and   
tuning the lab in a decidedly Klingon manner. That, combined with the   
four am calls the command team would get when an 'imperative' decision   
had to be made which would radically alter ships system, sometimes   
made it easy to believe that she had never left at it.

Sometimes.

I keyed in my code and the doors slid open. It had been a long time  
since I had been in here -- a few times on damage control with  
Sappide, but never as before. Not after the attack.

The attack.

I can say it so rationally nowadays, like it doesn't still tear me  
apart. Us all apart, I guess. I made my way through her cabin in  
darkness, hoping I could excuse such an indiscretion if Sappide  
happened to walk in. The wave of memories I had been holding back   
flooded me again, and for the first time I didn't close my eyes and   
push them away. I had earned this, now that we were home. I had earned   
my night of indulgence after thirty-five years of sublimation.

We had been on shore leave when the ship had been attacked. It was  
about twelve years into our travel -- early days still. We had arrived  
at Keylor without incident, and were looking forward to a week of R  
and R. The Keylorians had held a banquet in our honour and as a result   
we landed Voyager on the planet. B'Elanna was among the skeleton crew   
to remain behind that night. Chakotay too, and I mention him now for  
Kathryn's sake.

Ironically, my most vivid memory from that evening wasn't the sight  
of Voyager in flames or the reaction of the crew to the disaster...it  
was the look on that Keylorian's face; the one who first stumbled into  
the banquet hall looking positively horrified as he approached the  
table where we had been seated. The moment my eyes locked with his, I   
knew something had happened; something far beyond 'worse case   
scenario.'

The rest of that night was a blur. We ran, not even bothering to  
climb into the waiting transports just outside the building. We  
ran...all of us...the entire crew...over the hill and down into the  
valley beyond, which, by then, was lit up like daylight with the  
inferno. Part of the hull had been completely blown away. It didn't  
even look like the bridge was still intact. I never heard the cries of  
those around me...it was like I was deaf. The world spun around me in   
slow motion while my body moved mechanically.

Flames had engulfed most of Voyager by the time we got down to where  
she was. Above us, Keylorian service vessels were dropping water and  
fire retardants, trying desperately to help. We worked side by side  
with the them for several hours to put out the flames. No one could   
say for sure what really happened - only that several ships of unknown   
origin had decided to use our home as target practice. Voyager had   
landed on a peaceful planet inhabited with a hospitable race of   
beings; there was no reason to keep shields up. No one had been   
expecting something like this... The attack had been completely   
unprovoked; a grim reminder of just how far from home we really were,   
and how alone. I kept asking myself why, even to this day, but I   
suppose it's not worth dwelling on. It happened. It's over. Life goes   
on...unfortunately.

After it all, amongst the burning, and the dead, and the debris --  
it was the whimpers of the almost dead that spurred the survivors on.  
A few of us went inside, once it was safe. An away team onto our own  
ship, the irony should have killed me. Kathryn was there, only because   
I don't think anyone had the strength to stop her, even if they wanted   
to.

And perhaps there are some things that I can't think about, even  
tonight. It would be superfluous to talk of the dead bodies and the  
smell of burning flesh that assaulted my nostrils, or how DNA samples  
were needed to identify some of the victims... To talk of prying open  
her cabin door to see her crushed underneath the beams. To mention  
walking past Kathryn in the corridor, noting that she was crying and  
not thinking anything of it.

The over-riding memory I have of that day is fighting my way off of  
that ship and collapsing on the grass. Someone brought me over a hot  
drink, and I lay staring at the clouds and the sky, thinking of my  
lover and all the things she would never see again.

It had been a hard time, for us all.

"Computer, lights," I said, back in the present, as I came to a stop  
in the cabin. The worst thing had been the blood on the carpet. We  
could get rid of the wreckage and even the dead . . . but the blood on   
the carpet wouldn't come off and was a constant reminder of what we   
had lost. When there were no more dead to recover, when I became alone  
with my thoughts, I spent four hours on my hands and knees scrubbing  
B'Elanna's carpet, trying not to gag at the thought of what I was  
doing.

Looking down now, I could still see the faint outline. It should  
have made me feel better, that *something* of her had survived all  
these years. But I couldn't even be sure if it was really there   
anymore. In my mind I would always see the blood on the carpet.

I shook my head and closed my eyes. Enough of this. I left her  
quarters, quietly. I shouldn't have gone there in the first place.  
Some things are better left in the past. I stood in the corridor,  
persuading myself to move again. I could have gone back to my cabin --   
I probably should have gone back to my cabin, but I owed them all this   
one last night. One last game of pool in Sandrines.

I headed down to the holodeck.

I never believed that we would have been able to get Voyager moving  
again, after all of that. I had no right to believe that, because we  
had always survived -- we were Voyager, that's what we did, we   
survived. And so, of course, we got moving. The final damage report,   
as Tuvok put it in a way that made Kathryn wince with pain, was 35   
dead. Among them were B'Elanna, Chakotay and Megan Delaney.

We worked like dogs for weeks. In a way I think that it was a  
blessing, we didn't have time to think about the dead. We didn't even  
have time to hold a proper service - hell, we didn't even have time to  
hold a meeting to decide we didn't have time for a proper service.  
Someone, I never found out who, took care of the bodies. As we were  
walking toward Engineering in one of our 'mobile meetings', Tuvok and  
I decided that it would be easiest to hold the caskets in the cargo   
bay, so that people could have their moments to grieve before they   
were ejected into space.

I had gone to visit B'Elanna on one of those day/nights when I  
didn't even know what time it was, I just knew that I needed sleep. I  
don't know what I expected: to suddenly feel at peace with what had  
happened, to suddenly be cured of the dull feeling that had crept into  
my mind . . . either way, it wasn't working. I stood up to leave and  
then suddenly saw Kathryn across the other side of the room. She was  
sitting next to Chakotay's casket. I sat back down again, quickly,  
feeling like an invasive voyeur. I thought that I would just wait for  
her to leave -- it was the first time I had seen her alone, not  
hounded by a thousand people requesting a thousand things that we   
didn't have. I wanted to give her this time alone, at least.

I watched from the corner of my eye. Chakotay's was a closed casket.  
There wasn't enough of . . . well, it was a closed casket. I watched  
her, that night, and maybe for the first time really saw her.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay." The words rang out across the cargo bay, and  
the sadness tugged at me again. She reached out and touched the  
casket, tentatively, almost like she was afraid it would crumble at   
her touch. And then she stood and leaned heavily on its lid, staring   
quietly. "We should have buried them, Tom." She said, and I realised   
that she had known I was there, all along. "They deserved at least   
that, don't you think?" Her voice lingered off.

"I think they would have understood," I replied, suddenly  
exhausted.

"I hope so," she replied, looking at me for the first time. "I hope  
so."

\---

And oh, standing here now, does that feel like a long time ago.  
Lifetimes ago. Lifetimes away, maybe. I'm standing outside the  
holodeck, but I hesitate. I'm not sure if I want to go in. It reminds   
me so much of the earlier years on Voyager, before families and   
friends started ingrating themselves into our lives. Before the   
attack.

I sigh, and let my fingers fly across the console, breathing life  
into the Sandrine programme. I've always loved that moment of  
activation -- when things leap to life. But, now, as I step inside,   
the memory comes back to me in a wave of remorse so strong that I'm   
forced to reach for the wall to steady me. All of us...here...on the   
first anniversary of the disaster...Kathryn...

\---

"You all know what night it is." Kathryn's fingers had turned white  
from gripping her glass, and the whole room seemed to fall apart  
around us. There was a moment's silence, that belonged to our ghosts.   
And then she looked up, and her eyes were blazing, there is no other   
way to describe it. Blazing with determination, and I could almost see   
the thoughts going through her mind: we *will* survive this.

"To distant friends." She raised her glass, and spoke with a voice  
that was pushing the words out through a closed throat.

"To distant friends," came the reply, and she smiled. I watched her,  
as she raised the glass to her lips, but didn't drink. She tilted her  
head to one side, and just stood in silence for a moment. And then  
moving quietly, and in a way that didn't leave me with any doubt as to  
the source of melancholy, she placed the glass on the bar and walked  
out.

I was still staring at the door about thirty seconds after she'd  
left Sandrine's. I couldn't breathe and it felt as if my heart had  
stopped. The pain in her eyes had torn me apart, reopening my own  
wounds until the blood covered what little of my life had remained  
unblemished. I'd always found a way to survive; it's part of who I am.   
But watching the life slowly drain from the one person who had   
instilled the will to prevail in all of us was almost too much.

Without conscious thought I got up and followed her. Each person I  
passed on my way out was lost in their own remembered grief. The death  
shroud had once again spread its folds around Voyager. I couldn't help  
but wonder how long would it take to unwrap this time, or if we would  
even be able to....

My heartbeat was the only sound I heard as the turbolift deposited  
me on the officer's deck. I'd never journeyed to Kathryn Janeway's  
quarters in the years I'd served on board, but I knew where they were.  
Within seconds I was outside her door. It opened silently after I  
signaled for entry, the darkness within enveloping me as I stepped  
forward. She was there, standing in the middle of the room with her  
back toward me. The silence in the room was deafening, but my mouth   
felt like rubber. Did I even have the right to be here?

She turned to face me then, and the look in her eyes told me my  
presence wasn't a surprise. Tears streamed freely down her face. The  
look of anguish written there forced a lump to my throat immediately,  
effectively cutting off any means of voicing my thoughts. Suddenly I  
was standing in front of her. Which one of us had actually moved I   
don't know, but before I could think I was wiping the tears from her   
cheeks, holding her face in my hands as our eyes continued to share   
the pain of our losses. Her hands reached for mine, covering them in   
silent admission. That was all we needed.

A heartbeat later our mouths melded together, tongues dancing fiercely  
even before our lips had touched. She reached around my neck and  
pulled me closer to her. My arms shifted protectively around her waist   
as our kiss grew desperate. I was frozen; unable to pull myself from   
her grasp. I knew what she wanted. I knew what we *both* needed, and   
for the first time in my life I didn't care about anything else but   
this very moment. I cursed those who had left us alone, left us to   
waste away in this vacuum of unforgiving existence. The thought made   
me sick. I felt her nails digging into the back of my head, as if she   
were trying to merge with me on some level past the mere physical. I   
felt my own tears mixing with hers as we swiftly moved across the   
room. She led the way. I didn't resist.

Her top came off before we'd even fallen onto her bed. Our mouths  
were still joined, the heat of the moment taking complete control of  
our responses. She wore nothing underneath, her softness pressing   
against me as she ripped my shirt off with a strength hidden from   
casual view. Her nails scored my back as I fumbled with her pants, the   
pain only fueling the fire that grew inside. I tore my lips from hers   
and bit her neck gently as I tossed the offending clothing off to the   
side. She was naked beneath me, her hips thrusting against my still   
clothed lower body. As my mouth searched her she began to moan; soft   
sounds of pleasure that my own ears were never meant to hear. I ran my   
hands down the length of her as my lips found her delicate, rose-  
tipped peaks. Her body was firm, but far too thin, her ribs   
protruding almost painfully. She arched against me as I suckled, her   
hands grasping my head once more. I heard her whispering softly, and   
even though I couldn't make out the words, I knew they weren't meant   
for me.

It was happening like something out of a dream, where time stands  
still; her hands on me, my mouth on her. My pants were undone and  
discarded at some point, I don't remember when or how. I felt her  
beneath me then, pulling me down. I tried to hold back, not wanting to  
crush her fragile form, but she wrapped herself around me tight as if  
her life depended on this moment. Maybe it did. She ground her hips  
shamelessly against me, her insistence a silent order. I complied,  
sliding myself inside her as slowly as my own need would allow. A soft  
hiss escaped her throat as I did so, her body tensing sharply. I felt  
tears sting my eyes again as her reaction answered the one question  
I'd always wondered about: she and Chakotay had never been intimate.   
Their relationship had seemed so deep, I just assumed they were   
lovers. I started crying then, both for her and for myself. I was   
hurting just as deeply, the feel of her reminding me how much I loved   
and missed B'Elanna. She hugged me tighter, her own voice choked as   
she pushed her pelvis into mine. It began.

What started as a slow, deliberate rhythm between us quickly raced  
into a frenzy of moving limbs and tensing muscles. She met me thrust  
for thrust, both of us sobbing uncontrollably. Her hands grasped my  
shoulders hard as she slammed herself against me, as if that would  
somehow drive away the grief that haunted her...haunted us both. Our  
voices rose and echoed through the room as our bodies responded  
naturally to the physical stimulation. Then I felt her breath in my  
ear; she was whispering, and this time I did hear the words. They were  
words of love and regret, desperate pleas for forgiveness and dark  
confessions of remorse; a tortured soul begging for liberation from   
self-imposed sins of the heart. I pulled her tight against me, wanting   
to protect her and show her that she'd done nothing wrong, hoping with   
all my heart that Chakotay was listening and would understand.

We were both beyond rational thought as we drove each other into  
oblivion. I felt her body tense beneath me, her voice rising to a  
desperate wail. I didn't stop. Shedding tears for my own loss, I  
pounded into her until she writhed against me and screamed, her body   
lost to the overpowering waves of pleasure and sorrow. My own release   
followed quickly, keeping time with the sound of her voice as she   
called his name over and over. His name...

We were both still crying as our bodies settled, her face buried  
tightly against my shoulder. We held each other in a strong grip,  
desperation and anguish making separation too painful. How many  
minutes, hours...how many days we lay like that, I don't know. An   
eternity. When we finally parted, she rolled over and curled up into a   
ball - very much apart from me. I knew she wasn't asleep. I   
understood.

Getting up, I gathered my clothes from the floor and redressed  
myself in the darkness, listening to her breathing as I did so. She  
watched silently. I was facing away from her when I turned my head to  
the side to catch a glimpse of her form. She didn't move. Nodding  
sadly in response, I turned...and left.

\---

There's not much else to say, although there should be. There should  
be a million stories to tell. The dead and the gone deserve more than  
to be remembered by two or three passing stories. But there it is, all  
the same.

There was never really a question of Kathryn and I going any further  
than we did. But that night saved us both, I think. It certainly saved  
me, brought me back to a place where I could conceive a tomorrow.

I've loved . . . really loved two people in my life. The first --  
B'Elanna, my beautiful wife. I saw it coming, and I loved every moment  
of it. The second was a surprise and it knocked the hell out of me  
when it came, hard and fast with a desperation that left me   
breathless. But Kathryn was like that.

We lost her only a few years ago. She had relinquished captaincy to  
Tuvok when the mind and body started to fade. It was a horrible thing  
to see. She faded fast, after that -- so long tied up with the ship   
and the Big Chair that when it was gone . . she lost interest. And   
that was her way. It was all of our way. They herald us in the media,   
they give us parades but they don't understand what we did to get   
here. What we gave up too make it home . . .

But no matter, it already seems like a long time ago. And they tell  
me there are still pool halls and real scotch in San Francisco. I've  
had years to practice with the best holo-sharks in the world, and with  
Kathryn. That should count for something.


End file.
